Are They Really Just Gone?
by TheTreeHuggerIzzie
Summary: HIATUS. T for swearing & violence. Cammie was captured by the Circle of Cavan 5 months, 1 weeks, 2 days ago and has been tortured every day by Ms. Goode for information- some that she doesn't even have. can she be saved or is this to be her new life?
1. Chapter 1

**Okay, right now I'm working on four stories (one's a OneShot) so please don't get too mad about my updating. It may be... once a week? I'm not sure. I'll put as much effort into this as I can without ditching the other three stories. Enjoy :D**

**Disclaimer: If I were as super as Ally Carter, you wouldn't be reading this on this site.**

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There was a time I believed that my friends would come for me, find me and save me from this hellhole of a Circle of Cavan base. But that hope was crushed by my sixty-eighth day here, when Mrs. Goode showed me a video of them all being murdered.

"_They tried to enter the base, you know." She started the day out awfully nice, which mostly meant that she hadn't hurt me within the first minute. "Probably to try to help you escape." She turned her attention away from me and towards the TV in the corner that I hadn't noticed. For a spy, that was bad. _Especially_ when you're in enemy territory._

"_What… What's that?" I asked, frightened but with a mask. I hadn't been given anything to drink since two days ago, and that was only enough to keep me alive. So yeah, I guess my voice cracked a little as I said this. They had tried every torture form they could think of in the past _

"_Why, my love, it's a TV of course. I hope we didn't drive you so insane as to not remember a simple television!" With the glint in her eyes, I'm sure that she hoped for just that- to rid me of my sanity so fully that I couldn't remember the simple things that once made up my life. "Tsk tsk, we _must_ treat you better, shall we? I'll be right on that dear, don't worry about a thing." Mrs. Goode rolled her eyes at me and turned on the TV._

_The blue screen instantly popped up, but it disappeared within seconds and was replaced by the forms of four guards standing outside. The first thought in my head was _this is the first ray of sunlight I've seen since… since I'd left my friends. _I just couldn't bring myself to say "captured". To be captured means to be controlled, no longer fighting back. I was simply apprehended. Before I could drift off into the nightmare of my apprehension, I turned my attention to the TV._

_One of the guards glanced around for a second, and I just barely saw his eyes snap wide. Before he could call out, a certain tall, beautiful, and tan British teen shot onto the screen and punched him right in the face. Down he went. _

_The other guards didn't have a chance. Macey, Grant and Zach- my heart sped up at the sight of him- shot onto the screen not five seconds after Bex and each of them got a guard. Just to be safe, they all slapped a Napotine patch onto the guards' arms and dragged them into the bushes. Bex pressed a hand to her ear and said, "Duchess to Bookworm, we took care of the guards. Where are you guys?" I could almost hear Liz's voice. It had been so long since I saw them last. "We're just heading into the base, this should be a quick in-and-out mission to get her. Zach, are you sure you're ready to-" Bex's question was cut off by ten guards coming out of the base. Two of them had guns to Jonas and Liz's heads._

"_Try to resist and you'll have two less friends to cry with, but these two won't be breathing." My eyes widened as he finished, "Now, come with us inside and you may just live for the next week." I gulped as all six of my best friends left through the tunnel. _

_At that point, Mrs. Goode turned the TV off. I stared at her in disbelief and asked, "What the hell did you do to my friends? I swear to God, if you hurt _any_ of them-"_

_Mrs. Goode cut me off. "I do not believe, _Cameron,_" she spat my name like she would spit a newly discovered poison. "That you are in the position to make threats to me. I have been gracious enough to let you stay in the base, to let you watch your friends just hours before their deaths, and have even gone easy on you these past two months. It seems as if my generosity is highly unappreciated and, quite frankly, it hasn't gotten me anywhere with you. As of now, I will treat you worse than any other captive has ever imagined. Your father would be begging for mercy- if he were still alive." All I could think about that whole week was that Zach's mother had just told me two important things that changed my perspective of how much it was worth living. First off, she told me that all my friends had been murdered- trying to save me, no less. Then she told me my father was dead. I didn't know for how long or how painful it was, but he was dead. Never coming back. Gone from my life._

That day still played over and over in my head, causing tears to splash down my face and onto my immobilized arm. And by _immobilized_ I mean beaten-so-badly-over-the-past-161-days-that-the-nerves-were-completely-shot and the fact that I was tied up tighter than a psycho in a straight jacket didn't help with the pain. Honestly, the more I thought about it, the more I decided that living was _really_ starting to feel pointless to me. And that was _before_ Cassandra came in with her daily torture.

As I sat there I decided on something I had been sitting on for ninety-three days; if Cassandra was going to make my life hell, the least I could do is annoy her to the best of my abilities. I put on a cocky grin that would've made Zach proud and said, "So, you just couldn't get enough of me, could you? I knew you'd be crawling back to me. Was it my charming good looks? Or how about my devilish personality? Oooh! I know- it's the extra thick layer of charm I put on for you every-" _wham! _Apparently, I got the annoying part downpact. I could feel the blood dripping down my already-blood-encrusted face, but didn't show emotion. Mr. Solomon would've been proud.

"I don't know why you're so… obnoxious all of a sudden, Cam, but I'm sure it has something to do with simply _drooling_ over me like everyone else, but too afraid to admit it. As far as I know, _you're_ the one that wanted _me,_ isn't that right?" The way she said my nickname nearly made me black out. She was enjoying this too much; there had to be some terrible torture in store for me. "After all, you practically threw yourself at me that one-day, how long ago was it? Ah yes. I believe it was 161 days ago that your friends slowly began worrying. It was that one fateful mission that you didn't come back to your dorm. The teachers were quite worried, too; it only took twenty minutes for them to send out a search party for you. As I've always said- the sooner they start searching, the better the information you contain. And you, my dear, had the fourth fastest search party in my thirty-seven years in this buisness. Very impressive, if I do say so myself."

I just stared blankly at her, trying to block the rush of images being thrown at me. "So Cassandra- or can I call you Cassy? I have a feeling that, in these past five months, we've connected. We've created a relationship, you know? You're the abusive husband with alcoholism and I'm the wife you locked up in the house, forcing to cook and clean all day. It's actually quite sweet." I finished with a pleasant smile.

"Fine. You seem awfully talkative today; let's see if I can't use this to my advantage, shall we?" (The old routine of 'Where is the alumni disk?' 'I don't know!' _smack._ 'I said, where. Is. The alumni disk?' _silence._ 'Tell me, you imbecilic fool!' 'If I'm so imbecilic then why do you need my help? What does that make you?' then she shocks me. painfully.) Yes, that is pretty much how my days went by, but with questions other than this. I honestly wanted to postpone the inevitable, so I back-talked her more.

"Well… to save you the trouble of finding things out, no. My chatty-ness is strictly for annoyance purposes only, which seems to be working quite well. So what's next on your list of ways to get me to give up information? The electric chair? 'Cause I have to admit, that was pretty fun the last fifty times. Ooh, I got one! How about that one where you spin me really fast until I get a really bad headache and throw up the little hydration I have?" Okay, so the last one isn't one they've tried on me. That was more of something Bex did every time I got upset, but I put it to the extreme so that she would at least consider it. No matter how upset I was, Bex could always make me at least smile. I would miss that…

Mrs. Goode smiled deviously at me and shook her head condesendingly. "Why my dearie, I know I told you I would be worse than the devil himself after that, ah, _incident_ last month, but that was really nothing." The incident she was referring to? I tried to fight back like I had done for the first month of my _apprehension_. Just a warning to any and all being tortured by the Circle of Cavan, don't openly fight back. You may hurt them or take them by surprise, but they always get the last hit in. Mrs. Goode continued in a voice that sounded as if she was telling a preschooler not to eat glue- slightly stern with hidden humor. "Today, you really will be playing with fate. It'll be a miracle that you survive." I'm not sure if she realized, but this was the fifth time she told me that life couldn't get worse, and that it would be a miracle if I survived. Within the past five months Zach's mother had turned me into skin and bone, broken every part of my body at least twice, and emotionally abused me enough to not even care about life. Honestly, all it took was to show me the video of my friends' final moments; but I couldn't show that. Instead, for the past three months, I kept a mask of complete emotionlessness, even when I was being interrogated.

Suddenly, the door flew open. The first person to walk in was- Zach. I shook my head, confused and unbelieving. When I looked at him again I realized that the person had cold blue eyes, not the warm green that mesmerized me every time I looked into Zach's eyes. This man also had cropped black hair and was all beef. Then came a slight woman. She held a knife in her hands and was grinning deviously, her brown eyes glittering with malice.

"As you can see, Ms. Morgan, I've brought some friends to help me persuading you." all I could do was roll my eyes at the thought.

"Are you kidding me? You've had _five months_ to plan your last resort, and you chose _reinforcements?_ This is sad, Cassy. I thought you had more style than this" I shook my head in mock dissapointment and continued. "Cassy, I'm sorry but… if this is the best you've got, I think we're over. I'm sorry. I should go." I told her all this in a soft voice, and as I said this it took all my spy training to keep a compassionate face.

"If this is so style-less, then let the games begin. Where is your mother's journal from when she was twenty-two?" she asked with anger hidden not-so-well in her voice. I see I touched a nerve when I insulted her techniques…

I shrugged in response and answered, "I'm her daughter, not lifelong stalker. Seriously, you need to get your facts straight. Most CIA agents burn their journals or hide them far too well for anyone, even their _children_, from finding them. I wasn't even thought of way back then, so I wasn't able to be my chameleon self and follow her when she hid it. I'm _so sorry_ for the inconvenience." I told her with heavy sarcasm in the last sentence. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Ms. Blondie (the slight woman with brown eyes) slip over to me with the knife in her left hand. _A lefty, huh?_ I thought, keeping Mr. Solomon's first lesson ("notice things") in my mind as she pounced at me and stabbed my side with the knife. It hurt worse than I thought it would, but I kept my mask on.

This is how my first day of Cassandra's new torture continued, and about nine hours into it, I pretended to black out. I could feel "Cassy" just staring at me as she said, "Absolutely useless. Remind me again why I don't just kill her?"

I'm guessing it was the woman's voice that answered. "Because every second of her life is being recorded and livestreamed to Zach. Soon her torture will be too much for him to bear and your son will be lured back to you."

A gruffer voiced added in, "and because she might just give in. We've taken her whole world from her. What's there to lose if she gives up everyone elses'?" with that, the trio walked out, leaving me with my mind in overdrive with the information they had just given me.

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**Love it? Hate it? Rate it! And by the way, I'm most likely not going to put a disclaimer on _every _chapter. I'm forgetful. I'll try my best, though. *Peace***


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: If I owned this, Cassandra would be wearing the ugliest jumper I can find. Because even though she only shows up once or twice in OGSY, she's still Ally Carter's.  
Sorry for how long this took me... anyway, review? Show to some friends? I don't know, but I only have three reviews, and this chica isn't happy, let me tell you. I'll let you read now.**

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I had been sitting in my torture chair for five months with the exceptions of using the bathroom and going to the electric chair, so you can imagine my surprise when Ms. Goode unstrapped me.

"What are we doing today? Walking through the park and getting some ice cream? It's on me," I told her with a simple smile that told her _whatever you're doing; it's not going to work._

"Oh no, I just thought you'd appreciate walking around a little. If you can." she told me with a sneer. She knew very well that I couldn't, without a great deal of pain, that is. I remembered back to the first month of being here- that was the worst part, adjusting to the life of a prisoner. Every word out of my mouth brought pain, and any movement made the tears run down my cheeks. I would sit there, feeling as if every grain of my body was on fire, and the fix to it was a simple answer of "in Sub-level Four". That was the first time I truly felt weak, like I was nothing. I was just a pawn in the story that was missing its fairytale ending. I knew I was going to die in the dank grey 10x10 room. I also knew that the bad guys aren't always beaten; that sometimes they win against all odds. I wouldn't help them, if it was the last thing I did.

"Come on, Cammie. You can do it, can't you? All it take is a few steps." Ms. Goode's teases brought me back to today, a place I sincerely wanted to leave. When I didn't walk on my mangled legs, she snapped, "Who would've thought that a spy couldn't walk? A Gallagher girl spy, no less. I thought you prided yourselves on the ability to keep moving, I'd hate to see what you need to work on!" her comments were too much for me. I quickly lunged at her, pushing off on my legs, which hurt enough to make me want to cry out. "Aagh!" Cassandra was on the floor, terrified and breathless and shocked all at the same time. And I was on top of her, in full control. I fought the urge to pummel her, that wouldn't get me anywhere. Ms. Goode started to struggle, so I pinned her arms down and kept myself steady, just like they taught me so long ago at Gallagher.

"What did you mean, Zach's alive? You _showed_ me that he died with everyone else." I spat at her. "I watched as your goons dragged them all away with guns to Liz and Jonas' head. _Tell me the truth!"_ I shouted the last part, finally showing emotions after four months.

She smiled at this and told me in a sickly sweet voice, "There are three cameras in this room, Cameron, all with a great view of your ordeals. And _all_ being live-streamed to your precious friends, who are alive and well. No thanks to you." she paused, and told me in less than a whisper, "You are but bait to the true need, but the information you give us will help. The information that you do not give will bring your boyfriend one step closer to coming to your rescue." I gave her a well-doesn't-this-just-give-it-away look, to which she once again scolded me with a, "There's no audio in here, princess. All they know is that you're having a pleasant conversation with me as you look completely stunned sitting on my chest." I calculated for a few seconds before I realized that the Blackthorne boys had already taken lip reading "By the way, how're your ribs?" at this, Ms. Goode jabbed me in the ribs, to which I gasped out of shock and pain and rolled off of her. She was referring to the week before, before I learned that everybody was alive. Cassy had a hammer with her, and let's just say that my ribs were her focal point that day. I still couldn't breathe right.  
Just as I started to get my breathing right again, Blondie and the other goon from the day before came into the room.

"Gary, I'll be out for a few minutes. I have some… business to attend to. How about you and Cecile take care of our guest? Make sure she's nice and _cozy_." Well, now I knew their names, but that hardly mattered to me at the moment. With a not-so-pleasant smile, Gary nodded and started cracking his neck. He was enjoying this _way_ too much. "Oh, but please don't kill her, that would be just _dreadful_, now wouldn't it, dearie?" I glared at Cassy to the best of my ability -without it hurting too much- before she left.

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As it turns out, a few minutes turned into the whole day. Gary and Cecile, apparently, were much better than Cassandra at torturing people. With them, even after the five months with Cassandra's different forms of torture, it took about two minutes for me to nearly crack. While Ms. Goode focused on one form of pain, one part to focus on each day, Gary and Cecile tag teamed. They took turns about every half hour, one physically hurting me with all the tortures Cassandra came up with plus some and the other taking their toll on my mental state, talking about friends and family that I would never see again, telling me how much better their lives were because I had left. The hardest part about hearing this coming from Gary was that I believed him. I could almost see Zach and Macey together- something that I had been preventing ever since I met him. I could hear Bex's voice as she and Grant laughed about all the stupid things I had done since we met, which was a list so long it would write a book longer than War and Peace. Liz talking to Jonas about having to tutor me for the first two years because of the shock I felt at my dad being as good as dead. The details Gary had used- ones that only my closest friends could even be able to guess about- had me sure that Gary wasn't lying.

With the emotional wreck of my mind, one backhand slap from Cecile with the most predictable question of "Where is the Gallagher alumni disk?" was almost enough to get the answer out of me. The only thing that saved me was Mr. Solomon. He told us that, no matter what the situation is, double-check it. Lay out the facts to make sure they fit. I took a deep breath as I tried to slip the mask back on to cover up the despair, and thought about what Gary had just told me. Then, I skimmed through everything Cassandra had told me; focusing more the closer I came to the present. As I came to that morning, I stopped. And laughed. At that, Cecile looked shocked for a microsecond before she hit me harder than even Cassandra had. Apparently, I had woken her up from a very precious beauty nap, which sent me into a hysterical laughing fit that took too long for me to realize that it was hurting my ribs. As I realized this, Gary started up his turn to slap me.

Cecile tapped Gary's shoulder and motioned for them to talk away from me.

"What the hell does she think is so funny?" Cecile asked in outrage, "This should be making her cry for Christ's sake! If we went through all the trouble to-"

"Shut _up!_" Gary hissed back. "Just because she's hysterical doesn't mean she's deaf!"

To this, Cecile huffed before marching up to me and huffing, "Well bitch, I-"

"_Potty-mouth!_" I screeched, knowing I was in for it. Just like the calm before a storm, Cecile's expression was one that could only be found worn by her during sleep. It was one of innocence. In a flash it was gone and I wasn't sure if it was my mind was playing tricks with me or if I just wanted a reason to pity someone other than myself.

"As I was saying," Cecile continued, "What the hell do you think is so fucking funny?"

I couldn't resist; I put on a neutral expression and said, "Well aren't we PMSing today?" Before she hit me again, I quickly continued with a sigh. "If you must know what's so funny, it's the fact that you bad guys don't cooperate together very well. Haven't you noticed? It's like…. It's like you're _trying_ to send me subliminal messages shouting out, 'hey Cammie! Your friends are fine but they miss you terribly. Don't mind the whole _everyone hates you and that's a fact_ charade, they know you love them. Don't give up either, kiddo. Oh, and don't cry; you're a Gallagher Girl.'" I continued to tell my audience all about how Ms. Goode- a person that was most likely four positions above them- had just told me that very same morning how the Circle had planned to lure Zach into the base and that any information was just icing on the wedding cake. As I said this in as masked of a voice that I could, I stared at a little slightly off dot on the dank walls. Since that morning, I had found the three cameras that Cassandra was talking about and made sure that any useful information had the speaker facing towards one of the dots. If they didn't, then I would simply restate it when the cameras would catch it.

I tried to incorporate as many little messages to my friends as I could in the little "talk" that the Cassy, Gary and Cecile's information had formed in my head. The second sentence told them that I loved them, the third that I missed them and knew what the Circle was doing. The third and the fourth were more personal messages to two specific people. I said "kiddo" to feel what little connection I could at the moment to Mom; and the fourth pretty much told Zach to stay strong (his nickname for me is Gallagher Girl).

Since I had come up with the plan twelve seconds before I initiated it, nothing for Bex, Liz, Macey, Grant or Jonas popped into my head to use that wouldn't shout, "hey everyone! I'm just sending a secret message to my friends via your not-so-clever live streaming.' I mean sure, I could've said something about a bombshell for Bex and Alabama for Liz, shopping or politics for Macey and a Greek god remark for Grant (Bex would get it). And for Jonas, anything about hacking would've worked. At that moment, I realized that talking to your friends in a real life coded conversation was much like making up comebacks. At the moment, you're at a loss for words; but later that night, or even just after the window of time is gone, you come up with the perfect thing to say. The hardest part about finding it is that you know that there's a slim chance that you'll ever get to use it.

The creepiest part about practically spilling my guts out to Gary and Cecile is that Gary was staring off into space and Cecile looked as if she was trying hard not to cry. If it was just Gary then I think I could've started talking about cheez-its in the same tone of voice and he wouldn't notice.

Just as my story was finished, Cassandra came back in. There was both pride and a sneer on her face, a look that aged her ten years. Being the cover of a cocky, preppy and sarcastic teenage girl, I told her exactly that, to which I earned a backhanded slap.

"Sooo…" I dragged the word out and continued, "Why are you so proud of yourself? Kill a defenseless three year old and make the parents watch the child's torture?" The thing that made me recoil was not the answer or the threat of being hit; it was the gleam in her eyes as she pictured what I suggested.

"No. But now that you mention it, I _must_ get enough time on my schedule to do that. Any who, I suppose it can't hurt to tell you what's happening." Trying my best to ignore her first sentence, I resisted the urge to roll my eyes or sigh at her naivety. Was she really that careless that she would forget that her son, that she was sending live video feed to, had already covered lip reading in CoveOps? Or that, even if the Blackthorne boys _hadn't_ been trained in it yet, that Mr. Solomon was?

"So the director asked me to visit him in the conference room and, of course, I thought I was literally dead meat. Instead, it was an invasion counsel. The meeting took _much_ longer than I thought war meetings took, but hey, at least I'm not dead yet, right? Hey, don't look at _me_ that way, I've never been to one and in all the movies they always say, 'Okay, so here's the plan- Cassandra will lead the invasion into the CIA, all right? Any questions?' but nooo, we have to go on and on about what we'll do, repeating it a thousand times…" I felt like her diary, so after that I simply half-listened.

"What the hell am I to you, a diary?" I nearly shouted it, getting tired of listening to her feelings about the director. "So what? You're going to lead the mission to invade the bloody CIA and steal the blueprints to a bloody nuclear bomb! That's fucking good for you!" I was channeling my inner Bex, knowing that when she shouts at someone for a good reason, it somehow gets them all riled up and they usually slip up and tell more than they mean to.

"_So what_? You think this is some small nuclear bomb that will destroy the state of Massachusetts? Because it's not! This is the kind of bomb that you see destroying Russia! And that's exactly what it's going to do in three weeks if all goes according to plan, bitch!" With that, Cassandra slapped me. I knew that it would just earn me a beating, but I had to make sure that Gary or Cecile didn't block the cameras pointing at Cassandra.

In a cool and collected voice, I replied, "What is destroying Russia going to do for you? Honestly, I thought you said that that was where the Circle of Cavan originated. Why destroy its hometown?" Every once in a while, I would glance at the camera that had a perfect view of my face to make sure Zach, Jonas, Grant, Macey, Liz and Bex knew I was directing this information to them.

Exasperated at having to explain everything to me, Cassandra sighed and answered, "They turned against us in 1942. The Circle had been created in 1863, when Gilly Gallagher killed Ioseph Cavan. Base 001's last message to us was 'this is not what the Circle of Cavan was created for' which is what every base, from 002 to 956, heard. They've been the number one threat to us- they know our secrets, how we work, and where each of our bases are located. _That_ is why we have to get rid of them. They're about to win."

There was a somber look on her face, so I tried to match it with a gentle voice as I said, "If Russia turned, then why doesn't the CIA know about it? I mean, for all we know, they're just testing your strength." I risked a glance at the camera and shook my head, meaning _I don't believe this for a second_ before continuing, "Cassy, it's okay. There's going to be at least thirty _true_ Circle members in there, trying to figure out the truth. Do you really want to bomb them and maybe even a whole base without finding out the truth?"

Cassandra was rattled by this thought. "I must be leaving now. Cecile, Gary, come with me now." With that, my three torturers left me in my chair, relieved that I had brought at least a hint of doubt into Cassandra's plans. I slumped down in my seat as far as I could go and sighed in relief.

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**Love it? Hate it? Rate it! QUESTION! I'm doing next chapter in the point of view of one of the protagonists at Gallagher. Who should it be? (Please don't say Tina or Anna, I'm thinking more like Bex, Liz, Macey, Zach, Grant, Jonas, Ms. Morgan or Mr. Solomon; but I'm leaning more towards one of the students.)**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: Don't even get me started. It's just... Too many things would go on in the story for this. I don't own.**

**I am SO sorry. I know this doesn't get to the point, but I thought I should get _something_ out to you poor souls. I'm working on the next chappie as I type.**

** So... I know that the majority of you (okay, so it was all but one that voted) thought Zach's PoV would be good, but then NegligibleNaina brought up a good point. Jonas was the furthest from Cammie in their group, so he's most likely going to know the most about what's happening with everyone else, right? Enjoy. And rEvIeW please!**

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It had been 161 days on the mark since Cammie had gone missing from the CoveOps "pop quiz," and I think Mr. Solomon feels like it was his fault. How was he supposed to know that tailing some bored ex-CIA agents through Six Flags would attract the Circle of Cavan to Cammie? When Zach had heard about this, he was in CoveOps with Grant and I was in Research & Development. According to Grant, Dr. Steve had gone down into the Sublevels with a grim look on his face…

_"We were still working on intimidation tactics, we started yesterday, remember?" Grant asked kind of nervously. Whenever something bad happens or he's just nervous, Grant tends to give a play by play. Usually, Zach would make fun of him for it, or just take over the story, but he didn't. Instead, Zachary Jared Goode, the guy that hadn't showed emotion since he was seven, stared at the wall with puffy eyes. _

_"What the hell happened?" I asked Grant in less than a whisper. Even if I had screamed it in his ear, I don't think Zach would have acknowledged it._

_"Well… Dr. Steve had come in and completely interrupted Miss Charz. He looked miserable and just said, 'I need to speak with Zachary, please. I don't think he'll be coming back in for the class. Zachary?'" Grant was whispering, too. _

_"I'll admit, I was kind of scared for Zach; I mean, there wasn't one 'excellent!' from him the whole three sentences. I jumped up a little, and kind of like an afterthought, Dr. Steve added, 'You should probably come too, Mr. Newman. It may pertain valuable information to you.' Zach and I had no idea what had Dr. Steve so sad, so he was his cocky self and we were joking around. Something in Dr. Steve seemed to have snapped, because he turned to us and said, 'Do you want to know what's so important that I had to take you out of class?' he snapped at us, 'Cammie was abducted. Not randomly, either, Zachary. Your mother personally went to get her.' Zach was frozen. Dr. Steve turned to me, and I willed myself not to flinch. 'And before you ask, Rebecca is fine. She went to the hospital for shock, but it's nothing serious.'_

_"It took a while to get Zach to walk again, but once we did, we went to Dr. Steve's office._

_"' How…. What happened?' Zach asked. He was subdued- honestly, that scared me. _

_"Dr. Steve explained how Mr. Solomon had some of his retired friends wander around Six Flags and brush up on their counter surveillance tactics while the girls worked on their tailing techniques. Cammie was doing great; her tail hadn't noticed her for the five hours she had been working at it. And I guess… that was the problem. She didn't notice when Cassandra had put a gun to Cammie's back and whispered, 'Walk or I will kill you and everyone within a fifty-foot radius.'_

_"The person Cam was tailing still didn't notice when she started walking with Cassandra. No one on our side saw her again. I guess, sometimes, being the chameleon isn't always a gift."_

_With that, Grant finished his story. "When did this happen?" I asked with a hint of anger in my voice._

_"Yesterday." The voice that croaked it wasn't Grant's somber voice. It took me a second to realize that Zach had spoken, and that it wasn't in his usual cocky, I-know-something-you-don't voice with that air of confidence. Instead, it was the real Zach. The one without the mask and the one that Cammie had probably gotten used to in the past year of enduring him._

_So… now what are we going to do?" I asked to either of them. _

_"Well, Zach and I are already arranged to go to Gallagher for dinner and stay there until we find Cammie. We were kind of wondering if you wanted to come, too. You know, help Liz out with the technology part; we may be able to track her down." Before Grant had finished the last sentence, I had already nodded and grabbed my suitcase from the closet. It was only the first week of school, so I hadn't really unpacked it, spare a few pairs of socks that were thrown around the room at leisure._

_With that, Zach, Grant, and I had boarded a plane to Roseville, Virginia, and got to Gallagher Academy. We encountered three extremely disheveled girls that looked as if they hadn't slept in days, though it was just the past day that Cammie had been abducted._

_Without hesitating, Bex pulled Grant into a fierce hug; and to my great surprise, Liz ran up to me and tackled me with a hug. Neither of us were blushing, which was a first. I glanced over at Zach and saw that he was about to cry. Macey was standing next to him, and without hesitation she patted his shoulder._

_"It's okay to cry, you know." She told him in a quiet, steady voice. And he did. _

Sixty-seven days later, we found the most likely base that Cammie would be held in- it was in southeast Virginia. In those sixty-seven days, we learned just how much we needed Cammie. She was the glue in the group, and there wasn't any tape to take her place; that just led to a pathetic attempt at a group of functional friends.

Macey, Bex, and Liz had withdrawn themselves to what they did to calm their nerves. For Macey, it was flipping through her fashion magazines and studying. I suppose if there's one thing good that came from Cammie's abduction, it's the fact that everyone close to her had been getting much better grades than they usually did in at least one class.

Bex had been in the P&E barn almost 24/7, beating up unlucky victims (human and inanimate), while she cried. The first time Grant tried to get her to leave for dinner- which was two days, sixteen hours and thirty-six minutes since they got back from the pop quiz without Cammie- Bex had nearly broken his arm.

Liz… Liz was doing all right on the outside. For the first week, her eyes were always red and puffy, but since then she had delved into hacking codes and updating her firewalls. From NSA to CSS, she had been cracking their codes faster than usual. I suppose, in a way, Liz was doing the best out of the three; but if you looked closely enough, you could see the slight tremor in her hands while she waited for her patented code cracker to finish with the basic part of the hacking process. When I asked her about it, her face flushed and she bit her lip like she always did when she was trying not to cry. Before she could answer, Macey answered, "Cammie always teases Liz about _something_ to do with the code breaker. It's almost a tradition." It was more than just her trembling hands. I could see that she was having trouble sleeping, but I didn't want to ask her about it. Instead, I went to Macey. "Every night she's been having nightmares. She never tells us about them, but we know. She's whimpering every night, calling for Cammie. It takes a lot to calm her down, and then we just pretend it never happened." She whispered back.

Zach and Grant were a different story for how they coped.

Zach just didn't, which is probably the scariest part. Instead of his usual calm demeanor, he wouldn't even try to hide his emotions; which was usually a mix of guilt, pain, sadness, and determination. His usual cocky self was gone, and in its place was the Zach that only Cammie had known before she disappeared.

For the first week or so, Grant had been making jokes that got cornier and cornier the worse he felt, but he soon stopped when he realized that Cammie missing wouldn't save him from the wrath of three upset and annoyed spy girls. Since then, he had been sparring with Bex. Sure, it meant he was sore and always bruised, but it gave a triple purpose. It helped Bex to not have a mental breakdown (because, as he says it, "There's nothing worse than a mental Bex with a missing Cammie… except maybe a grumpy Tina with a taco in her face."), it kept _his_ mind occupied from thoughts about how Cammie could have been tortured at that moment (a topic that nearly caused Tina's death to be "murdered by six teenagers" and yes, Liz and I would have been in on it), _and_, surprisingly, Grant was getting better. He beat Bex twice in the past month.

The other students that hadn't known her more than "The Chameleon" found Cammie to be nothing more than a hot topic of gossip, nothing more than a good book to discuss. The teachers, on the other hand, were more than worried about her. Madame Dabney had lost her usual aura of grace to be replaced by grief. Professor Buckingham seemed even older than usual, her arthritis acting up and the cheery glow that made her look ten years younger was gone, leaving her looking like the normal seventy-year-old woman with arthritis and grey hairs that she wasn't. I mean, the "seventy-year-old woman with arthritis and grey hairs" part is true, but she had never been _normal._ To say that is like saying that Bex had been passive or Liz troublesome, or Macey socially awkward. It's just not true.

I was pulled out of my reverie when Mr. Smith called out, "Mr. Newman, what sorts of goods would you need to trade with your average Cuban dealer to receive information on the local nuclear black market?"

Apparently, I wasn't the only one that hadn't been paying attention, but I had already learned this at Blackthorne. I kind of pitied Grant at the moment; the look on his face told me he had been sparring with Bex last night- and she had won.

Without moving my lips, I muttered, "A prostitute, two-thousand pesos, a fake passport, and some sort of expensive jewelry." It was loud enough for Grant to hear it, but quiet enough to not let anyone else hear it or suspect it.

Grant repeated, "Um… a prostitute, two-thousand pesos, a fake passport, and some sort of expensive jewelry."

Mr. Smith nodded in approval and moved on, continuing his speech about Cuba.

After COW came dinner, which was as uneventful as ever. The sign outside of the dinner hall read "Farsi- Persian", so naturally everyone in the room was talking in Farsi when our little "group" came through the giant oak wood doors. Chef Louis had been outdoing himself over the past two months- over the beginnings and ends of school breaks, he had caught Cammie sneaking food from the kitchens about three times. After that, he knew whom to blame for it but he could never catch her. I suppose it had become a sort of game to them, but Cammie never lost. I nearly smiled at the idea. Sure, Cammie and I had never gotten too close as friends, but I DID help Zach find more out about her after the DC mission; and what I learned from that was pretty impressive.  
I sprinted up to the girls' room with Liz before dinner was over to check on the progress. You see, last month Liz and I had started to try finding Cammie based on the known COC bases and where Ms. Goode had been seen the most. We knew that she had personally gotten Cammie from the mission, so we decided it was safe to say that she would stay with her. We would have told Zach about the program, but that would involve talking about his mother. She had never been a welcome topic to Zach, but now that she kidnapped Cammie, well... she's not a good topic to choose unless you want Zach to either beat you to a pulp or start crying depending on his mood.  
There was still no progress, which I guess was to be expected. After all, we had been searching for two months, and with all the places she popped up near the 134 bases in Virginia, it felt almost impossible to narrow the possibilities down to five.  
I sighed in exasperation- couldn't we catch a break? Liz looked up from her laptop; she was tracking Ms. Goode's movements to the best of her abilities using some of NASA's satellites. So basically, Liz was tracking Ms. Goode. I hate to say it, and if anyone else were to ask, I'd deny it without a doubt, but Liz may be a better hacker than I am.  
I caught myself staring, luckily, before Liz did. Before she could notice, I returned my attention to my laptop, staring it down. I knew it wouldn't help the program to work any better, but it was helping _me_ not to stare at Liz.

One of the reasons I'd decided to throw myself so far into finding Cammie is my friends- Zach and Liz especially. Sure, I cared about her as a friend and _any_ person captured by Ms. Goode deserves to be rescued, but I probably would have offered advice and hacked into a few bases and satellites. I would _not_ have made a program to find someone behind four out of five peoples' backs to find the person. That was mostly for Liz, anyway. She wasn't herself without Cammie. I guess… I guess no one was really "themselves" without Cammie, but it was Liz that I cared the most about when it came to that. The spunky, braniac klutz that I met on our exchange had turned into a subdued, quiet, accident-prone girl that hid her emotions in her projects.

"I heard that she was being held south from here until about a week ago- but she escaped. They say she took a car with her, too." Of course, it was Tina. Which meant…

"Dinner's over." Liz told me in a nervous whisper. That was all I needed to start minimizing the program in such a way that only Liz and I knew how to open it.

The first to barge into the room was Bex, closely followed by Macey. Bex plopped onto her bed while Macey sat daintily on hers and started reading her note-filled _Vogue_ magazine. The similarities between the two of them were amazing, compared to how differently they were raised and just how much they _looked_ different.

Macey looked like the rich-heiress side of Gallagher Academy. She had a picture-perfect family- although that's where the perfection ends. When she was little, she probably wanted to be a princess or a doctor like all the other little girls did. Then Macey McHenry turned into the rebel that showed up at Gallagher Academy a year and a half ago.

But Bex? Bex was the epitome of a true Gallagher girl. Not to say that Macey wasn't a true Gallagher girl, but she set off the image of the cover story. Bex's family was different. There she was, the daughter of two brilliant spies of MI6, at Gallagher Academy. She had always been different from the start. When she was six, she didn't want a knight in shining armor or to be the damsel in distress. She wanted to _be_ the knight in shining armor, saving lives without a thank-you; and she wanted to beat up James Bond and take his "00" status, not sit there waiting for someone to help her. Because even when she was little- Rebecca Baxter knew that sometimes, help doesn't get there fast enough.

**

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I'm getting to it. And by "it" I mean, what the what happened with everybody being dead. Love it? Hate it? Rate it! and yes, I know I deserve rotten fruits to be thrown at me for my negligence of the story. I left my computer at my dad's, which means I could only work on it on the weekends. I know. I forgot it twice. Stupid, stupid, stupid...**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: You should thank the lord that I don't own Gallagher Girls; it would be terrible. Actually, nonexistent. The idea would never have come to me.**

**I know, I know. I'm the most generous person in the world :) The best way to thank me is REVIEW. To all those reading Annabeth Comes to Gallagher Academy, I'm working on it. As you read this (most likely). Anyhoo... Enjoy! :D**

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Grant was leading Zach into the room while he just followed without a second thought. Scratch that, he didn't even have a _first_ thought about it.

"Anything?" Grant asked eagerly. Whenever Zach became depressed enough to almost need to be force-fed, even Bex and Macey laid off of him.

"Nothing." Liz answered for the both of us gloomily. " She's been popping up _everywhere._"

Grant looked confused, Zach tilted his head up to indicate that she should continue, and Bex and Macey stopped what they were doing to listen. Sure, they knew we were looking at the different bases, but they didn't know we were tracking Ms. Goode to help narrow them down.

_Well, the cat's out of the bag now._ I thought, just as Liz continued with her signature "Oopsie daisy."

She looked over at me, the look in her eyes telling me she was sorry, but I shook it off. "So… we may have been doing some extra searching behind your backs." I started off.

Bex was about ready to hit one of us, Grant still looked confused, Macey was trying to look uninterested, and Zach had snapped his head to look me straight in the eyes. The message he was sending was clear: _spill._

"So I made a program that takes all of the 134 Circle bases in Virginia- because this is the one state she pops up in- and Liz has been tracking her via NASA satellites," I was purposefully not identifying who "she" was, hoping everyone would either get it or forget it, "And when the program gets the base locations and her recent activities over the past five days, it slowly eliminates each base. I have it programmed for when it has five possible bases or less, then it-"

I hadn't taken a breath for my whole explanation for fear of being interrupted, but I didn't need to finish.

Because the _ding_ that signaled that the program narrowed it down to five bases, _dinged._

Then, the ding that signaled _three_ bases dinged, not a minute after that.

And before I had the chance to explain, the program popped up on Liz's screen and mine. The signal that tells you, _the program's done. We found the base!_

Liz nearly fainted as I just stared at the screen, dumbfounded.

"Why are you two looking at your computers like they're about to explode?" Macey asked. If I had been looking at her expression, I would have seen that she was nervous beyond belief. If I had been able to look away from the screen, I would have seen that _everyone_ was nervous.

Liz took it upon herself to answer the pressing question and assuage their worries before they took off running and looking for cover. "We… we found Cammie!" She had choked up a bit when she said Cammie's name, which was the one of the few things that could tear my gaze from the screen. I whipped my head in her direction, and was shocked to see that she was _smiling._ Like everyone else in the room. Except…

"Zachary Jared Goode, we have found your blo- girlfriend. If you don't stop being a sourpuss, I will personally give you a _full body wax_!" _Nice save, Baxter_, was all I could think as she glared at Zach, who was slowly coming back to his old self- at least, as much as he could be without Cammie already safe. _If Bex had said _bloody girlfriend_…_ I couldn't even think of what would happen. Pandemonium. That's all it could be, but the specifics were impossible to predict…

"Nice save," I heard Macey mutter to Bex, "All hell would've broken loose from that."

"Yeah? Well blame my British heritage." She muttered back.

Surprisingly enough, Grant was the one that got us back on topic. "Well? Where is she?" he asked nervously.

I didn't even have to glance at the screen to answer, "We're going to Bristol."

When they heard the town name, Bex and Macey raced out of the dorm in a full-out sprint.

"Where…" I shouted after them, but Liz was the one to answer.

"They're going to Ms. Morgan's office."

I nodded; of course they were. She would want to know if we found her daughter, wouldn't she?

It took them about two minutes to come sprinting back and gasp out, "She's letting us… go tonight… as long as we… be careful."

I know they're Gallagher girls, and they shouldn't be out of breath, but it takes a minute and a half for a Gallagher girl to _run_ there. For them to sprint there, spit their story out, get Ms. Morgan's consent, and run all the way back to the room had to mean that they A) Shouted their story down the Hall of History as they sprinted, or B) Were two Gallagher girls on a mission to save their world as they had the biggest adrenaline rushes in history.

Before I could question them about it, everyone was already packing everything they would need. Comms units, med kits, napotine patches, and every other object that could help 1) take out Circle people, and 2) get Cammie out safely.

Liz was packing her laptop and some spy ware that the NSA was _still_ trying to buy from her, while Macey grabbed some keys. If there's one thing that girl can do, it's pack in record time.

The voice that brought us to reality was one that had about eighty-three percent of his usual attitude back in it. Zach. "Let's go."

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

The trip was a long one. Even in Liz's state-of-the-art van (which she had pushed up to 375 miles per gallon), the ride was long. It got longer when we realized that, although we just ate dinner, sitting in a van with nothing to do but wait makes you hungry. Fast.

Then, yet again, it got longer when the girls realized that staying in their Gallagher Academy uniforms- while government approved- wasn't the best idea.

"Don't worry, guys! I have cat suits stored right… here." Liz dug through the spare tire compartment until she pulled out four cat suits, one for each of the girls (including Cammie).

"Oh, thank bloody god," Bex thanked Liz. I was driving, with Grant sitting next to me, while Zach sat right behind us, leaning on the armrest.

"If one of you even _glances_ at us in the next five minutes, you'll be wishing that Bex would be the one doing the hurting." Macey, of course, chose to say that. Luckily for us, Zach was close enough to being himself that he had a snarky reply to that.

"Oh, sure McHenry, because we're just dying to see your bodies." Of course, Grant was, but that's beyond the point. A snarky comment is, what a snarky comment does.

"Liz, do you happen to have some food back there?"

"Grant, you _just_ ate an hour ago." Macey started to complain, but was cut short by Bex.

"Oh sure, here." And she handed him some very Liz-made looking cheetos. Not that I have anything wrong with anything Liz makes, but the van was basically the girls' headquarters for fighting bad guys. Which usually meant that-

"Bex, don't give that to him!" Liz practically shouted in panic, which supported my theory of there being _something_ wrong with the cheetos.

"Why not?" Bex's voice was the epitome of innocence, even though she's anything but.

"Because- because you know why!" Liz was having difficulties spluttering her words out, almost as if she didn't want to say the exact reason why.

Luckily, Grant got the gist of what the cheetos really were- dangerous. He was inches away from plopping one in his mouth, but he stopped to hear the argument. In that time, Zach was smart enough to take the bag from Grant- knowing that when he's hungry, there's not much that can stop him- and smacked the cheeto that was hanging in the air, just inches away from entering Grant's wide-open mouth, from his hand and onto the floor.

Liz gave a sigh of relief, but that didn't stop Bex from continuing their conversation. "Why are you so afraid for Grant to eat some innocent, perfectly legal cheetos? It's not like our little Liz Sutton to do something dangerous and against the law with some oh-so-yummy cheetos, is it? Because, I'm completely positive that she wouldn't-"

But Bex was never able to finish her sentence. It took Liz a few seconds to get out of her stupor at what Bex was going to do to her reputation, but when she did, she was carrying poison on her lips. "And we _all_ know that it's not like Bex Baxter to be soft and caring, especially not to _one_ particular person, now is it? You know, the person that she _absolutely_ despises, the one that told her-"

"The game is _over_, you guys! I thought we established that when I told Tina what happened in Cairo! I won, and there's no second or third place! Goodness gracious, I feel like a mother right now!" Macey was laughing at a memory of what happened at Cairo, but Liz and Bex were roaring with laughter. _Girls. Will we ever be able to tell what they mean? And they say _we're_ hard to understand…_

"What's going on here?" Grant asked for the three of us poor, confused souls.

Macey barked a laugh. Liz giggled. And Bex? Her reaction was the scariest of them all. She just gave us an evil grin before answering, "We needed a distraction before we went crazy. It started last month. You see, we either had to tell something _true_ and funny about one of the other two, or you make the biggest lie ever about them and see how far you can go before whoever you're telling gets suspicious."

"So… What's up with the cheetos and Bex being nice?" I found myself asking. You'd be curious too if it meant finding out what Bex was going to do to Grant, and how in the world someone got her to be nice to someone she despises.

Bex sighed, but it was Macey that answered. "See, Bex being nice to someone she hates- biggest pile of bull I've ever heard. Seriously, where have you boys _been_ for the past year and a half?" Zach smirked, but it was wiped right off his face when Bex punched him in the arm. "Anyway, the cheetos thing is true. Don't eat them. They're only legal in Russia during times of war. If we even _say_ what they are, the CIA will be shooting us down before we can even say 'innocent'. Which, trust me, we're not." She grinned evilly, and I had to remind myself that I was driving.

The conversation slowly dwindled to nonexistent, leaving us all to face the terrifying reality that I was driving us towards at fifty-two miles per hour.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

"Duchess, you're clear." Liz spoke calmly through the comms unit as we sat in the van. Alone.

For once, Bex didn't complain about her codename. She had more pressing matters at hand. We had hacked into the security cameras outside the base, but didn't put it on a loop. Instead, we became Bex, Zach, Grant, and Macey's lookouts. We watched as Bex quickly knocked a man out with one solid punch, closely followed by Grant, Macey, and Zach, who all appeared on the screen not five seconds after Bex.

"Slap some napotine patches on them, just in case." I told them. I felt more nervous than ever before; I was helping someone escape the wrath of the Circle. Liz and I were so enraptured in what was happening onscreen with our friends that we didn't notice two people stationing themselves at the doors. We didn't notice when they pulled guns out and gripped the door-handles as they silently counted together, synchronizing the opening of our doors and putting the guns to our heads.

I guess that's what happens to most agents when they're caught without an option. They don't notice until it's too late. I mean, sure, I could have fought mine off, and Liz could have helped with hers, but they _both_ had guns. If I fought, Liz would pay for it.

I guess that's why I silently obeyed when a gruff voice told us, "Walk."

I could hear Bex in our comms unit, talking to Liz. "Duchess to Bookworm, we took care of the guards. Where are you guys?"

Liz couldn't answer through her fear, so Bex continued. Oblivious to the fact that we had guns to our heads and were being led in their direction.

"We're just heading into the base, this should be a quick in-and-out mission to get her. Zach, are you sure you're ready to-" But she never got the chance to finish. Because, as we walked, I could hear her voice from two places- my comms unit, and just ten feet in front of us. And as we walked closer to her voice, we became visible through the bushes and trees. She stopped talking and stared at us. There was fear in the eight eyes that stared back at us, and I realized that there were eight people behind us.

"Try to resist and you'll have two less friends to cry with, but these two won't be breathing." _Oooh, aren't we a clever one_. "Now, come with us inside and you may just live for the next week." Okay, so maybe thinking snarky comments at the guard that currently had a gun to my head wasn't a good idea, but it was better than _saying _them to him. Besides, if we're so _destined_ to die within a week, then where's the point in being a good boy?

I could tell Liz was scared as we were lead through the dank and gloomy hallways, but I couldn't comfort her. The other guards behind us were prodding Bex, Macey, Grant and Zach, and Zach was getting no special treatment. He showed which side he was on when he grew to love Cammie.

_Oh god, I'm getting sentimental! This is for girls, not us!_ But, I guess that's what you get for living in an all-girls school with three male teachers and two other guys for two months…

We stopped in an interrogation room with dank walls covered in old bloodstains. I couldn't help but wonder if they were Cammie's.

"Why, hello Zachy-poo. Did you miss your mother?" A piercing, menacing voice reached my ears.

Zach just glared at his mother, and when I met Bex's eyes, she started blinking in Morse code. _When he spits at her, we fight. Their guns are empty._ How could I have been so stupid? _Cough if you understand._ I coughed almost immediately. _Pass this on to Liz._

I coughed again, then caught eyes with Liz and repeated the message. She calculated the possibilities for a fraction of a second, then coughed.

"-hate you!" I heard Zach shout at his mother before he spit at her feet. Six teenagers immediately let their P&E training kick in as we fought the eleven adults in the room. I heard a sickening _snap_ as Bex's arm got twisted and broken, which caused Grant to get mad. Within minutes, we had overpowered ten of them, but Ms. Goode was nowhere in sight.

Zach answered the unasked question with a simple, "She ran."

I nodded, and noticed that everyone was bloody, bruised, and altogether injured.

"We should get going."

Five heads bobbed in agreement, and we walked out of the room to find Ms. Goode leaning calmly against the wall opposite us. I froze, ready for a fight.

"Don't be alarmed; I don't want a fight. Just let me talk with my son." She turned to Zach. "Maybe I'll let you see Cameron. She's quite the fighter."

That was all it took for Zach to cave. He actually took a step towards his mother before Grant could grab his arm and shake his head at him. It wasn't much, but Zach got the message- Cammie would rather die than let Zach go to his mother, and while he would rather die than leave her there, all he cared about was what Cammie wanted.

"Pity. Although, I'm sure she hates you, anyway. After all, it was your own mother that brought her here. _I'm_ the one that has been dealing with her fighting, and we all know that she hasn't been cooperating. You know what that means in this business, Zach…"

We all knew what that meant. Cammie was being tortured.

"You know, you really only have two choices. You can either take the chance and walk away, or we can trade you for her. I mean, sure, I need you to get this mission done, but when it gets down to it- Cammie's a joy to have. Truly, she is. I can see why you were attracted to her. So much fight for a captive…" Ms. Goode trailed off, and we took our chance.

We ran.

Yes, there was a possibility that we could have saved Cammie _and_ gotten out alive, but Zach's mom was right. Cammie- poor, captured Cammie- would have found it completely reasonable to hate Zach. There was a chance that she would come with us just to get out of there, but two months with Ms. Goode can do a lot to your body. We had no clue how much pain Cammie would be in with the slightest of movements.

And yet, despite all the logical reasons that told me leaving her there until we came up with a better plan was a good idea, I couldn't help but think that we were making one of the biggest mistakes as we clambered back into the van.

We had been driving for an hour and a half when Liz came up through the aisle and put her hand on my shoulder. I barely glanced at her. How could I? I had just brought her within shouting distance of her best friend, then ran. We ran, went over the speed limit, ignored stop signs and lights, just to get away. And it was my fault.

"Let me drive. You need to get some sleep." She offered. And now she's being the fastidious person she had been all her life. Add that to the reasons I don't deserve her.

Still, I couldn't make myself look her in the eyes. Instead, I shook my head and kept going twenty miles over the speed limit.

She sighed. "It's not your fault. We _had_ to run." How is it that she can read me so thoroughly when all I can read off her is her emotions that she displays so easily on her face?

"_I'm_ the one that told everybody that we found her. I gave them hope. And happiness. Then I let you all down. How can you still talk to me? How can you… You should hate me right now." I stopped there, sure that my voice had cracked somewhere.

"You didn't let us down, Jonas. Yes, you gave us hope, but since when is that a bad thing? And we don't hate you. Remember, it was _both_ of our idea to make the program, and _I'm_ the one that slipped up on telling them about it. If we all start hating people on our side, that are working for the same cause as us, then the bad guys will win. Now, pull over. You need some sleep before you kill us all." She smiled at the end, but I didn't take it as a joke. Instead, I pulled onto the shoulder with a slight _bump-bump_ and hopped out.

"Thanks, Liz." I told her as I held the door open for her. She nodded, hopped into the driver's seat, and motioned for me to hop in.

I shut her door, barely making a sound, and stepped into the back. Everyone was asleep, but the first person I focused on was Macey, with her diamond zit making more noise than the engine, with her head on Bex's lap. We had put a temporary cast onto Bex's arm, seeing as we couldn't find a believable excuse for our appearances if we were to go into a hospital.

Bex's head was on Grant's shoulder, while he had a strip of cloth tied tightly around his arm that probably needed stitches.

The last person that I looked at was Zach. And he wasn't asleep. Instead, he was staring into space, a somber expression on his face. I sighed.

"I _said-_"

"I know, I know. Going to sleep now," I interrupted Liz before she could get too loud and wake everyone up. She nodded before setting her eyes back on the road, mumbling some things that I couldn't catch under her breath.

I sat in the corner away from everyone else, not entirely sure that what Liz had told me stood true to everyone else.

My mind was drifting, my heart was hurting, and my eyes were closing. Before I knew it, I fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

"Jonas. Jonas, wake up. We're back." I heard a female whisper in my ear and felt a delicate hand shaking my shoulder.

I mumbled something along the lines of, "…" but there was more than one person there, and they weren't feeling so nice at the moment.

_Splash._ Within half a second, I was alert and ready to fight whoever decided to splash me with _ice water._ Except… I knew I couldn't take them.

It _had_ to be Baxter- the one person that I'm pretty sure wouldn't mind killing me.

"Oh good. You're up." She said coolly. "Let's go."

I realized that everyone else was awake and waiting for me, so I stood up to go back in.

"Um… Jonas? Your laptop?" Liz looked slightly confused. How could I, the computer nerd of the century, forget my laptop?

I just nodded, reached over for my computer bag, and looked back to see… four retreating figures. What the hell. So much for the whole "Oh, no one hates you. Or blames you." crap. We all know that was a lie.

Instead of wallowing in self-pity, I shut the van door, thinking _it's ten o'clock, and everyone's been beaten up today. They probably just want to get to the infirmary, get treated, and go to sleep._

And I was right. After I jogged to the infirmary, I found Bex getting a cast on her arm, Grant being stitched up, Macey being given some ice for her ankle, Liz sitting with Bex for support, and Zach getting crutches. I hadn't even noticed he got hurt! What kind of friend am I?

When Liz saw me, she patted Bex's knee and walked over to me.

"Hey," she said quietly. "What's wrong?"

The thoughts that were running through my head were something along the lines of, _what's wrong is that my best friends have every reason to hate me- and they do. Hate me, that is._ But instead of giving her that mouthful, I replied, "I'm pretty tired." Then, just to make sure, I asked, "Are you sure you're okay?"

She nodded, and I could tell she was telling the truth.

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**Love it? Hate it? Rate it! Oh, and please tell me if they sound out of character, I think they are, but I'm not sure. Next chapter is (also) Jonas PoV, I think that'll be the last one of his, though. For now, anyway.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: Disclaimed ;)**

**I still haven't gotten done on this end of the story, so I need suggestions as to whose PoV I should do next. I've been avoiding Zach because he's pretty much deadened by the experience most of the time. Suggestions are lovely, especially in the form of reviews -wink wink nudge nudge-**

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I trudged up to our room- and by _our_ I meant Zach's, Grant's and mine- in the East Wing. Sure I was tired, but I needed to work on getting Cammie back. I plugged my laptop in, pressed the power button, and watched as it went through the starting process.

Most computers take forever to load, but mine only took five seconds. I also programmed it to check for bugs, viruses, and to scan your fingerprints before you could sign in.

The only people I trusted enough to let them be administrators (besides me) were Zach, Grant, Liz and Cammie.

I know I said that I hardly knew Cammie, but Liz trusted her with her life, and I trusted Liz's judgment. I would have put Macey and Bex as administrators, too, but Macey was too famous. It would be too easy to lift her prints from any state. And Bex was too… well, she was Bex. If I put her as an administrator, she'd find a way to kill us with technology within minutes. Whether or not she chose to put that to use would be anyone's guess.

No one knew that they were administrators, of course, but if they needed to get into my laptop enough to try and use _their_ fingerprints (after all, they have no clue what kind of defenses I put on it), then they're in desperate need of my laptop. And when my friends are that desperate and I'm not there with my laptop inches away, they would need all the help my computer can offer

Two seconds after I scanned my thumb on the touchpad, I expected to see my background of Grant, Zach and I at Blackthorne; the changes from being a school for assassins to a school for spies complete. Everything about the school felt different, but in a good way. We were happier than ever to be there, and in the picture we were laughing at Dr. Steve, who had just fallen into the lake.

Instead of the joyful picture, I saw Cammie. She was tied to a very uncomfortable looking chair, and her face was a bloody mess.

Seeing as I hadn't taken CoveOps since the one semester that it was mandatory, I never covered lip-reading. Ms. Goode spat something at Cammie, which made her flinch enough that I could see whatever she said scared her. After smiling in satisfaction, Cassandra left the room.

On my computer screen, I could see Cammie slumping down a little in her chair. There was what looked like fresh blood on her face, and I found my hand pressing the little "record" button on my laptop.

All I could do was stare at Cammie on the screen and whisper, "I'm so sorry," over and over. I wasn't sure how long I sat there, apologizing to Cammie even though I knew she couldn't hear me.

Luckily, Grant came into the room before Zach did; but only because the crutches slowed him down and Grant was too tired to wait for him.

When Grant came bursting through the door, I was still staring Cammie on the screen- she was sleeping by then- and telling her I was sorry. But instead of a whisper, it was coming out more as a slurred mumble that could have been coming from someone that was simply very drunk.

"Dude, what'd they slip you? And who are you talking to?" Grant questioned, but I didn't have an answer. Hesitantly at first, Grant walked over to my desk to get a better look at the computer screen.

"What the…. Dude, where the hell did this come from?" Grant finally saw the live feed that was recording Cammie sleeping.

"I… It was here when I started this up. It… I… she…" I couldn't form coherent sentences, but that seemed like an unimportant task compared to what I found.

"Do you think we should tell Zach?"

Before Grant could answer, I heard a quiet, dull voice ask, "Tell me what?" and I knew that he needed to know. It's just… I couldn't find my voice to tell him.

"Come 'ere." Grant instructed. "Jonas found this on his computer when he came up."

Zach crutched his way over to us, and when he could clearly see Cam, he stopped in his tracks.

Before I knew it, there were tears running down his face. He stood in silence for what felt like a thousand years. He wasn't angry with me; it was almost as if he didn't care that it was my fault that Cammie was still in there.

Instead, Zach sighed and muttered, "She's so peaceful. Even when her life takes her through hell."

I got up and went to bed, but left the computer on. Zach knew to shut it off when he was done, and I knew he was soaking up the fact that she was alive. He drifted to the seat I was just recently occupying, and just watched the screen.

Grant patted his shoulder before leaving him alone at the desk, staring at the images before him as if they were something as exotic as flying unicorns. Which, in a way, I guess they were.

Mentally sighing at my strange metaphor that must have meant I was delusionally tired, I drifted into a sleep filled with memories with my friends- the good with the bad.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

The next morning was a bit of a shock to me. Zach was still sitting at the desk, his eyes blood-shot but open, staring at Cammie. She was just stirring and Zach's mother was walking into her room. Sometime in the night, a TV had been brought into her room and was sitting in the corner.

As if he knew what I was going to ask, Zach told us, "They brought the TV in at twelve fifty-six. She didn't even stir."

I nodded. "I'm really sorry, man. I should've been paying more attention in the van. I should have…"

"Jonas, it's not your fault. _I_ know my mother the best. I should have known that she would do that. If anything, it's _my_ fault. Please don't go blaming yourself." Zach glanced at me for half a second before staring at the screen.

"What-"

"Shh." Zach put his index finger up.

I wanted to scream, to yell at him that he was wrong. It was my fault- how could he not see that? Instead, I sucked it up like a good spy and watched as Zach lunged for a pen and paper, his eyes never leaving the computer screen.

With more speed than a guy who had stayed up all night and put through a special kind of hell for two months should be able to muster, Zach seemed in a life-or-death situation as his hand flew across the paper and his eyes never left the screen. It took me about ten seconds to realize that he was lip-reading what his mother had to say and writing it all down. For both a spy and a genius, that was bad.

Grant came out of the shower, but didn't say anything when he saw what Zach was doing.

I turned to Grant and mouthed, "It's recording." He nodded, but didn't tell Zach just yet.

"Wait for him to be done," Grant finally mouthed back, clearly seeing the confusion on my face.

About eighty seconds later, Zach put the pen down. His expression was a mixture of shocked and hurt.

"What happened?" Grant asked, beating me to it.

"She... She thinks we're all dead. She believed her." Zach got up from the chair and stiffly limped over to his bed, not bothering to use his crutches. Before I could get a word in, Zach started rambling. "She thinks her dad's dead... Or she knows he's dead. I don't even know if that's true or not. But she believed her! She believed that witch without bothering to second-guess her! What happened to her, to my Cammie? The Cameron I knew would have screamed her head off, saying that she had no right to talk about her dad that way. And they don't! But they... they broke her." Zach's last sentence was nothing more than a whisper- of pain, sadness, and guilt. It killed me worse than having to quit at one of Liz's firewalls.

There was no way to comfort him, no way to make his pain disappear into a peaceful dream. Unless we brought Cammie back, which is a task as impossible as getting Macey to wear clothes from the eighties without keeping her unconscious the whole time- it takes time, thought, a couple seasoned operatives at the ready, some weapons, and Napotine patches.

This one metaphor put my mind into overdrive, mostly because it was true. We had the time and thought- two months was long enough in my book. Being in Gallagher, we _definitely_ had the weapons and Napotine patches. All we were missing on the last trip were the seasoned operatives.

_How had I been so stupid?_ Six teenagers weren't enough to get their friend from a massive terrorist group that wasn't afraid to kill- we needed people that knew what they were doing. Going to a school for assassins- that was taking lead to being a school of espionage- taught half of us to kill in cold-blood, but we'd never actually _done it_ before.

"Hey… Guys? I think I know how we're going to get Cammie back."

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

At those words, two heads snapped up, wishing for me to continue. As much as I wanted to, I couldn't tell them without the girls, and possibly Ms. Morgan.

Seeing my indecision and guessing what it was about, Grant went over to my laptop and pulled up the video chat. Not a minute later, Liz, Bex and Macey were onscreen looking pretty tired.

"What's up?" Liz asked nonchalantly.

"First, I think we need to add Ms. Morgan to this, don't you?" Realizing that she didn't know what I was talking about, I quickly informed her, "I have a plan."

Seconds passed before it clicked in Liz's head, and she answered, "No can do. She's out- I think she went to the CIA or something…" Liz trailed off, lost in thought about where the headmistress could have gone.

There was a far-off look in her eyes until Macey snapped her fingers a few times and called out, "Earth to Liz! Hello there, my spaced out Einstein of a friend. How's life on Earth for you?" in a slightly loopy voice.

If everything were whole and normal, it would have been _Zach_ that arched his eyebrow and let out an uncertain, "Erm…" not Grant. But- just as it's not normal for us to be at Gallagher Academy for Exceptional Young Women and it wasn't our average, everyday life to have Cammie in the clutches of Zach's evil mother- Grant was the one to question Macey's sanity without saying two words.

"It's the pain meds. She's not taking to them as well as the rest of us, for some reason." Bex mused at us.

"Can you please tell us the plan before I strangle you?" Zach asked emotionlessly. I almost jumped at the sound of his voice, not expecting to hear him.

"Right." I answered, "Let's get to it before I die, then. Shall we?"

There were three nods from the girls, and in the reflection of the screen I could see Grant nod, too.

I explained my epiphany (leaving out the metaphor about Macey), only to see that everyone was shocked that they missed a vital piece of information. It only took about three minutes to get everyone on page, but then Zach came in, bringing us back to the point at hand.

"Well, what's the plan, then?" He asked. "Are we supposed to just bring a couple of teachers with us next time?" Four heads nodded in agreement with him.

"No- be honest. If we were thinking straight and being _logical_ yesterday, would we have realized that there was almost no way of getting Cammie out? Six teenagers can't just go ahead and save their best friend from a terrorist group that doesn't think twice about killing. We had _no chance_ unless they chose to give us a break. No chance." I felt the need to emphasize the last part, incase someone missed it. Seeing the anxiety growing in Zach's eyes, I got back to his question. "Heck, six of our _teachers_ couldn't storm in there and get her without someone dying or causing her more pain than she's already got. The point is, this _isn't_ just an in-and-out job. To get Cammie out of there, we'll need someone to go undercover into the Circle. We'll need them to be trusted enough by Cassandra that they'll be given the information as to where Cammie is. We might even need them to play their part as a goon." I didn't want to say it, but I think everyone got the message- we might need them to hurt her.

Of course, this plan went over like a ton of freaking bricks.

It took exactly ten seconds of silence for Bex to explode at me, and the only thing I was grateful for at that moment was that she wasn't in the same room as me.

"_What the fuck, Jonas!_ We can't go and send a bloody CIA agent to the Circle so that they'll have to _torture _her! What is going on in that bloody mind of yours?" She shouted, her British accent dripping from her words. I'm not positive, but I'm pretty sure I could hear her from where I was, minus the video chat.

Zach sat there stoically, and when I turned to get his opinion, he just shrugged. "They can't be anyone that my mother could have seen before, and they can't be too new, either. Why didn't the CIA send anyone to do this yet?" You could barely tell that it was a question, but I assumed it was because it wouldn't make sense as anything else.

Liz finally spoke up, telling us, "I'll go see if Headmistress Morgan is around yet, so she can ask the director about it. Anybody want to come with me?"

She seemed nervous, so I instantly responded, "Sure," as Grant, Zach and Bex agreed, too. Macey was passed out on her bed, leaving it as everyone conscious going.

"On one condition," I pressed. "Bex doesn't kill me."

"Wouldn't dream of it." She answered snarkily. I shut the video chat, leaving the image of Cammie and Cassandra on the screen.

Fast as lightning, I minimized the screen and locked my computer. Somehow, the topic of the live feed never came up. Damn, Bex was _definitely_ going to kill me.

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**Love it? Hate it? Rate it! Sorry for the whole Macey-isn't-going-to-Ms.-Morgan's-office, but then Jonas would die for sure. Please... Don't murder me?**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: 'Tis not mine- well, the plot is... Other than that, give it to Ally Carter.  
Sorry for the... uh... Major negativity last chapter :/ and the completely late chapter (again). Enjoy? Review?**

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When the boys got to the Hall of History, Bex and Liz were already at the door to Ms. Morgan's office. Jonas's face got ten shades lighter than it already was, and he inadvertently stepped behind Grant and in front of Zach.

"Dude, they're not going to bite." Grant muttered to him. "Macey isn't even here- _she's_ the one you have to watch out for."

Jonas tried for a small laugh, but he sounded like a strangled cat. "I forgot to tell them about the video feed. Bex is going to _murder_ me." he replied. His lips were barely moving as we shuffled down the hall.

"Guys, I know you like them, but could you _please_ walk faster? My arms are about to fall asleep." Zach complained; apparently, he hadn't heard what the two were talking about. Either that, or he didn't care- it was hard to tell these days.

Grant started to take his usual strut, and answered Jonas in his regular voice instead of whispering. "Don't worry. She promised not to kill you?" Jonas nodded. "She sticks to her promises. You'll live."

"But…"

Grant didn't want to give Jonas any more time to worry, so he called out, "Hey Bex, Jonas forgot to tell you something important while we were talking earlier. Before I tell you what it is, I just wanted to remind you that you _promised_ not to kill Jonas. Alright?"

To reply, Bex just snorted. Liz elbowed her in the side and gently shook her head, causing Bex to sigh.

"Yeah, it seems we forgot something, too. Well, you first." Bex seemed almost unwilling to tell them what Liz could've possibly forgotten, so Grant gave an expectant look at Jonas. By now they had reached the girls, and Jonas stood a little straighter than he had before.

"Well…. You see…" He stuttered out, "We _kind of_ got hacked by Cassandra, and now there's a live feed of Cammie on my computer…" Jonas's muttered words were barely audible over the din of our breathing, so it was unintelligible.

"_What?_" Bex asked, clearly confused.

"Cammie's on live feed on Jonas's laptop." Zach spoke up, clear and intelligible.

Bex and Liz seemed almost shocked at his outburst, though whether it was because of the information or the fact that he didn't choke up just saying Cammie's name, I'm not sure.

"Well, what did you guys- uh… _girls_- forget?" It took him about a month, but Grant finally realized that Bex absolutely hated when people said "guys" while referring to her or her friends.

"Well, we kind of… that's exactly what we forgot to tell you. She's on my laptop, too." Liz seemed a bit scared as she said this. If there was one thing Grant learned about the petite blonde in all his time with the girls, it's that her firewalls are the best in the world- if someone could break through them, then nothing in technology was safe.

"But… how? What? No, that's not right. They couldn't have!" Jonas spluttered, most likely thinking the same thing Grant was.

"Relax, Jonas." Liz answered. You could see it in her eyes that she was trying to be strong for him, and that she was still trying to get _herself_ to believe what she was about to say. "They probably just downloaded it when we left the van."

Jonas nodded, honestly trying to believe her, but he was a spy- sometimes, we can't even trick ourselves. And when you're an R&D type of spy, you'll need a _lot_ more evidence to be able to let yourself dream.

Zach seemed to be on his A-game today, because he was the first to realize that we were just standing around outside Headmistress Morgan's office like a bunch of goons.  
"Shouldn't we go in?" he asked, sounding bored.

"Huh. You know, that completely slipped my mind." Bex answered before turning to Liz. "Wouldn't she have told us to come in before we got here?"

"Well I would've, if I hadn't been at the Director's office to see what I could do." Ms. Morgan answered from down the hall. You could see the haggard look on her face from twenty feet away, and her voice was flat. "But please, go on in."

Bex complied, opening the door and flicking on the lights as she went. Her movements were smooth, her muscles having memorized everything about the room from all the times that she, Liz, Cammie and, lately, Macey spent time with Headmistress Morgan.

"So, what would you like to talk about?" Headmistress Morgan asked as she sat at her desk, her hands fluttering with random papers.

"A couple things, actually." Liz started before being interrupted by Jonas.

"Why did you let us go on our own? You _had_ to know that we wouldn't be able to do it. What if we died?" he blurted out. He seemed close to crying, which was a surprise. The only times anyone in the room had seen Jonas cry were when he found out his parents had died on a mission and when he broke his arm in second grade. Even though it didn't look like it, Jonas was probably tougher than most people in his grade.

"I knew you wouldn't die; you six are some of the toughest students in our schools. You know how to manage yourselves. Besides, the Director wouldn't let us send out anyone from the agency, he has 'more important matters to send his people for,'" at this point, Ms. Morgan's voice was shaky, and her eyes were brimmed with tears. "He said that I had to at least make it a fool-proof plan, and it has to be worth his time." Tears splashed down her face as she recalled what had happened in the Director's office.

"_Hello, Rachel. Long time no see, eh?" He asked, turning his chair to face the woman in his doorway. The sight that met his eyes was one he didn't expect to see- the woman that he had never known to cry, not even when she learned her husband was MIA, already had tear-tracks down her cheeks and puffy eyes. The once battle-ready stance she wore with pride had been replaced with the stance of a woman that had seen it all and wished to be blind, just so she wouldn't have to see it again._

"_I see," he continued in a softer tone than the lighthearted one he used earlier. "You're here about Cameron?"_

"_Yes." Rachel answered softly, inviting herself to sitting on a small couch in the corner. "Isn't there anything we can do?" Her voice was pained, as were her eyes._

"_I wish there was, but we can't afford to lose anyone to the Circle- they've taken enough already."_

_At this, Rachel seemed to gain some of her old fight. A fire flickered in her eyes as her voice raised. "So what? We're just going to sit around and do _nothing_ as her friends have to go through the pain of _watching_ her die?" By now, her voice was almost up to a shout. "Isn't the point of the CIA to save the innocent? My daughter is more innocent than anyone in this agency, and the mission to save her is _far less_ dangerous than half the ones you've approved to save others with _far less_ potential than her!" Somewhere in her rant, Rachel started to pace on the worn out floor- she wasn't the first person to stress out in the Director's office._

"_Yes, it _is_ true that the CIA was built off of the intentions to save the innocent, but this is one mission that we can't bear to spare the manpower for. We have an all-time high of missions, and we're already sending people out with less than the bare minimum." The Director countered in a calm voice. "Hundreds of people are being sent out weekly without sufficient backup, and most of them have a less than ten-percent chance at returning. We need to recruit all the people we can, not send them on pointless missions that will get us nowhere."_

"_Are you saying that finding my daughter- which will only take two people- is more pointless than sending people out to their death? Why don't you withdraw your people from the lowest class missions and give them the right amount of people in the higher class? You'll save more people and get more done without the subjects getting suspicious of people coming out of the blue." Although saving her daughter had been the most important thing in Rachel's life since she learned Cammie had been kidnapped, she was temporarily distracted by the Director's lack of thought towards the other agents' lives._

"_That can't be done." The Director answered simply. Seeing that Rachel was going to argue, he continued, just as calmly as he started. _

"_Even the lowest class mission that we're running at the moment is crucial to this country's safety. We can't pull out of any of them. Don't think I haven't thought about any of this, Ms. Morgan. I haven't worked thirty-nine years in this agency to not learn a thing about saving the agents' lives. If there were something I could do, I'd do it. You know that. But there's nothing to gain- as a company- to send anyone onto a mission that would save a singular life that isn't a part of the CIA. If you can find a way to twist the mission of finding your daughter into a top priority mission, then I'll approve it. I'm sorry, Rachel."_

"_Is that what this company has come to?" Rachel demanded, her voice back to being frail and tired. "Do you really want to turn this company into a place that the missions have to be _twisted_ into top priority?" She stood up, heading to the exit door. At the door, she put her hand up on the frame and looked back before finishing, "I'll show you how the mission is important- and there will be no twisting or mangling involved."_

_Although she couldn't see it for herself, Rachel sensed it when the Director hung his head, ashamed._

Before she could delve herself into what happened afterwards- beating up the wall in the parking lot, crying until she was almost dehydrated enough to pass out, speeding down even the smallest of dirt roads at over one-hundred miles per hour- Rachel was pulled out of her reverie by Bex's hand softly landing on hers.

"We came here to tell you that we thought up with a plan to get her out, but it involves a couple of agents in an undercover mission. It may take a few months." Bex told her softly.

"We may not have a few months." Headmistress Morgan whispered. "But I suppose, that's the best we have- isn't it? What's your plan?"

Grant took it upon himself to answer. "Jonas figured that this isn't just an in-and-out job- it needs precision, time, trained operatives, and a plan. So, that means it's going to be at least a level two mission. Since it's a mission where the objective is to breach an international terrorist group, that bumps it up to level four, right?" Ms. Morgan nodded. "Then, since it's a live hostage under life-threatening conditions, it's a five or six. That means that retrieving Cammie is a top-priority mission." He concluded. With a small wink, he whispered to Ms. Morgan, "It's higher priority than the Fiji mission of 1998 that you went on."

Headmistress Morgan thought about smacking Grant upside the head- he just gave her sufficient proof that they hacked her CIA profile- but Bex beat her to it, hissing, "I told you not to say a _word_ about that!"

Instead of staying mad at everyone for hacking her profile, Ms. Morgan almost let a smile spread across her lips at Bex's ferocity.

"Aren't you going to do something about her hitting me? That's physical abuse right there, Headmistress Morgan." Grant complained.

"I didn't see anything." She answered with a hint of mischief in her voice. "But I _did_ hear you hint at a piece of information that is only obtainable with level twelve status or higher. Unless you hacked something; and we all know that's punishable by death or imprisonment." By now Headmistress Morgan had a small smirk playing on her face.

"What? Us? Never." Grant backtracked. "But what do you think of the plan?"

Well, it would be nice to know what it is first- all you told me was that the Director would find it worth his time." Ms. Morgan replied, her voice serious as she got back to why the teens were there.

"Oh. Right." Grant replied awkwardly.

"Well, it's really pretty simple. We get a couple of people to be recruited by the Circle- maybe only one of them will get in, but they might be a bit more on the desperate side and recruit them both. If they make themselves seem bloodthirsty enough, then Cassandra will most likely let them have a 'special treat' and uh… help her out a bit. If they prove they're good enough, then she'll let them return, depending on how busy she is.

"They'll have limited contact with us, but once they get on Cassandra's good side they should be able to get some good information on the Circle and possibly time alone with Cammie.

"Zach's told us that for a while, Cassandra will stay to watch, whether through the one-way mirror or in the room is up to her. After a while, we all should have enough information to extract Cammie." Grant finished, looking the headmistress right into her eyes.

"That… It sounds like a good idea- let me take a minute to call the Director." Headmistress Morgan motioned for them to wait as she picked up her desk phone and dialed a number so fast that even Liz couldn't tell what she entered.

After four minutes and thirty-nine seconds of hand gestures, shouts on both ends, and a surprisingly calm goodbye on Rachel's part, Grant, Bex, Liz, Zach and Jonas sat up to hear their headmistress call out, "It's approved. He's sending out two agents to get recruited tomorrow." A real smile spread out on everyone's face as she finished, "We're getting Cammie back."

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**Love it? Hate it? Rate it! Hmm... Sappy or happy ending? Can you guess where I'm headed here? [In the story, not the subtle hints to review]. I promise I'll try to update faster...**


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: Oh, bite me.**

**Late again? Yeah... A wee bit short? Yeah... Now the only story that I'm working on (publicly)? Yeah. Sorry for the crappy updates lately, they should be getting better. I keep forgetting to tell you guys that I don't usually respond to reviews.  
This chapter is in third person and the style is semi-inspired by Heist Society. Enjoy, please :D **

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Kathleen walked into the office earlier than usual that day, hoping to see a medium chai latte, no sugar but extra cream, sitting on the corner of her desk- but she knew that Mike wouldn't come in for another half hour. She expected to see the dreaded pile of papers waiting to be filled out with the tales of her latest mission in Gyor, where a Hungarian man nearly set off a nuclear explosion in his hometown- but failed, due to Kathleen's use of a nail polish brush that would later earn her a medal. Most of all, Kathleen expected to spend the day wishing it would go by faster and the work would fill itself out.

So, of course, when Kathleen found a very official-looking envelope with the words "Kathleen Harper" written on it sitting on her otherwise empty desk- just the way she left it two months ago- her curiosity peaked. She couldn't help but walk to her computer chair, plop down in it like she had so many times before, and open the envelope with careless ease.

However, before she took the very official-looking letter out of its home, she took a quick scan of who was already at the office- five interns that she'd never learned the names of and a maintenance man fixing the break room sink. After seven months in Gyor, she couldn't help being paranoid; it happened to the best of agents.

She restarted the process of taking the letter out of its envelope, carefully putting the parchment on her desk.

A thousand thoughts floated in her head, most of them wondering why she didn't find the usual post-mission paperwork and why the hell she got a letter. The only people in her job that she'd seen getting letters usually got fired, but Kathleen wasn't worried about that- she was one of the best agents after only four years of working towards it. Most people had to live a lot longer to earn the title she had. In fact, the person right behind her in the ranks at number forty-seven had worked in the field for twelve years to get there.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Jeremy Ciccone, shouting loud enough to be heard throughout the entire building as he paced into the office.

"_You're FIRING ME?" _He called out abruptly, "_After all I've done for this damned place? I'm FIRED?"_

Another voice- too high-pitched to be male- interrupted, trying to reassure Jeremy that his position in the agency was secure. "What do you mean, Jeremy? You're one of the top fifty agents here! Why would they fire you?"

"I have no _freaking _clue, but what the _hell_ is this _God forsaken letter_ doing on my desk?" he demanded, no longer shouting but not yet at the point of returning to his usual volume.

"I wouldn't know- I just got back from Brazil. Have you read it yet?" The woman countered in a _you're-an-idiot-if-you-haven't_ voice.

By this point, Kathleen was getting nervous. _He got a letter too?_ _I'm doomed, then…_

"I- well-" He spluttered uselessly, "No, but who do you know that got a letter with _good_ news?"

The woman sighed and snatched the letter that Jeremy had been waving in her face just moments before and read it to herself.

Before she could chuckle and point out what was going on, Kathleen ripped her letter off her desk and read through it, letting herself laugh a little with relief. Of course, Jeremy and the woman heard her- they were spies, after all- but they ignored her as the woman began to explain what was going on.

"You're wanted for a mission- a big one."

"Wait- _really?_ Since when do they send us letters to tell us that? What happened to calling us into the Director's office?" Jeremy countered.

"Do you remember the Beijing job in ninety-two? They sent letters to each of us to tell us. Most of them had a breakdown before they even opened their letter- just like you."

"But that was a-"

"Undercover search and rescue?" The woman interrupted. "I know."

"Oh." This brought Jeremy to a halt, trying to let it sink in. Although he's heard more life-changing news before without this much of a reaction, this caused his heart to go into overdrive and his face to turn ten shades paler.

"Well…" Jeremy paused to try to collect himself a bit more before continuing. "What do I do now? I wasn't recruited for the Beijing job- too new, and all- so what happens now?"

"It depends." The woman seemed to be thinking of how to finish her answer when Jeremy became too impatient.

"On?" he prodded.

"If you want to accept it so soon after being Billy Russell, or if you want to get used to being Jeremy Ciccone."

He didn't even pause before answering, "So how do I accept it?"

The woman smiled. "Burn this and head to the Director's office at nine-thirty." She handed him the letter back before taking her usual strut back to her desk to work on her paperwork.

All this time, Kathleen had listened to their conversation, checking her letter when she felt the need to double check that what the woman said was true.

_Undercover search and rescue… Burn this letter… Meet in my office at nine-thirty if you accept… _It was all there.

This mission was going to be hell.

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"Ah, Miss Harper- I'm so glad you could make it on such short notice." The Director's voice was as smooth as the silk that his tie was made out of. "Your partner should be here any minute now- he's not one to give up a mission like this. I'll explain once he gets here."

Kathleen nodded, watching the man as he sat with his hands clasped in front of him, waiting patiently and looking at home in his patented leather chair. After a few seconds of the awkward- to Kathleen- silence, the door burst open as Jeremy walked in only three minutes late (a new record).

"I see the six years of training at Blackthorne did nothing for your punctuality." Kathleen couldn't help but snort at Jeremy.

If he could've found something to insult her on in front of his boss, he would've said it without a second thought. Instead, he lifted his chin and sat in the seat across the desk from the Director.

"What's the mission?" Jeremy asked in his most professional voice, ignoring the very existence of Kathleen, who stood not ten feet away from him.

The Director chuckled. "Do you know how clichéd that line is?" He shook his head for extra effect. "Anyway, as you probably already know, this is an undercover search and rescue. Since you're both in the top fifty agents range, I'll assume you know about the Circle of Cavan, correct?" The two agents nodded silently, wondering where he was going. "We have to rescue someone from their torture chambers in the Bristol, Virginia vicinity. She's already in pretty bad shape, and you'll probably need a while to get on the inside. It's risky business, and-"

"So's the rest of our life here, Boss. What're we doing to get in?" Jeremy butted in.

"You're looking bloodthirsty and desperate somewhere on the outskirts of Bristol. You'll have to do some things that you normally wouldn't do, and forget all your morals. But you'll also have to be strong willed enough not to get sucked into the Circle's mind-tricks. That's why I picked you two- you're the most stubborn agents in the district. Here are your covers, if you still accept."

The Director handed a manila folder to each of the agents, full of papers, credit cards, and pocket litter.

"You two won't know each other personally- just the broke-out-of-jail-together sort of thing." The Director added. "The cover stories don't explain that too much."

Again, the two just nodded, already engrossed in their covers that would soon come alive and become _their_ lives. It always amazed Kathleen how Kathleen Harper, the girl who loved risks and working for the CIA to "patch her broken heart" (as the therapists put it), could turn into Cecile Ledger, the woman that loved terrorizing anyone of any size in the cruelest of ways and murdered her twin sister when she was seventeen and 364 days old (because she needed to do _something_ insane before she was legally responsible for it) with just a flip of a paper.

Yet, at the same time, Jeremy was almost shivering at the things his cover had done in the past.

_History:__ Age 18: murdered girlfriend after fight. Prison sentence- four years on plea bargain. Age 23: Attempted murder (voted "not guilty" during trial). Age 23: Murdered mother, father, aunt and uncle for grandmother's inheritance. Prison sentence: eighteen years. Broke out with four others (including "Cecile") after six years. Police still on lookout._

Jeremy couldn't help but think, _Goodbye Jeremy Ciccone, and hello Gary _

_Flint. Pack your bags, morals; you're going on vacation for a few months._

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

"Hey Danni, how was Bangkok?" Kathleen asked as she hopped into the stylist's seat to become Cecile Ledger.

Danni just pouted. "I couldn't go. Jesse got back from her mission just in time, and I was needed here. It's a shame, too. I heard they got to swim through the Chao Phraya to sneak into the base. That lucky bitch…" She mumbled the last part, already getting out the blonde hair dye.

"Now, this is going to sting because I'll need to get the roots. You'll have six months of completely blonde hair before you start turning back into a natural auburn. Are we clear?" Danni said as she kneaded it into Kathleen's hair.

"As clear as mud." Kathleen mumbled, hating having her appearance altered. "What about my eyes? Are we keeping them the same, or are we getting contacts, or what?"

"Oh, do you remember Dr. Fibs? From Gallagher?" Danni started.

"Who could forget him? If what Joe says is true, then he's gotten even crazier than when we last saw him."

The girls stifled their laughs of disbelief before Danni continued. "Well, he created an eye drop that changes your eye color- one drop lasts a month, so we'll give you six or seven once I'm done with this."

Meanwhile, Jeremy sat in his chair with an intern giving him his makeover while Jason- his usual stylist- sat by to watch the progress, ignoring the pained look on Jeremy's face. The blow dryer was too hot, the water too cold, and the intern's hands too rough. The only satisfactions Jeremy got out of the makeover were the illusion that Kathleen had to go through the same thing and when the intern finally told him to take a look at Gary Flint.

"Thanks," Jeremy tried to sound sincere, "that was… a change in pace for me."

"No problem!" The intern answered chirpily. "I've always wanted to be a stylist…" She drifted off into a muse.

_At least she's hot._ Jeremy thought as he sauntered off to bug Kathleen before they got to enter the Circle.

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**Love it? Hate it? Rate it!  
Where have we heard those lovely names (Gary and Cecile)? Did Izzie actually make this idea epic? You decide :)  
There's something that's bothering me about next chapter- in the narration part (_ said; _ jumped; etc.) Should I call Kathleen and Jeremy by their real names (Kathleen + Jeremy) or their covers (Cecile + Gary)? Peace.**


	8. Chapter 8

**Uh... Oops? *Dodges flying tomatoes* I'm really sorry guys- I'm trying! I actually downloaded this app on my iPod called "WritingChain" (or something like that) that's supposed to keep me motivated to write a certain amount of words every day, so we'll see if it helps...  
Disclaimer: Is the series completed within the designated time amount? That's your first clue that it's not mine. But since the chapter's finally here, enjoy it :D **

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"You two will have a lot to learn before you can chat with our visitors," Cassandra started as she examined the fresh meat that her henchmen brought in just moments ago. "I hope you don't get too twitchy until then- my friends have told me much about what happens when either of you want something too badly."

Kathleen used the sickly-sweet southern accent that Cecile was best known for when she replied. "As long as there's a good job to look forward to, I should be able to mind my own. I make no promises, of course."

A ghost of a smirk lit Cassandra's face at the woman's spirit before she turned to Jeremy.

"And you, Gary? There's something about you that seems like trouble- we _strive_ for trouble. Do you think you can manage a few months without our visitors?"

As much as he hated everything about the world they had been entered into, Jeremy let out a natural-sounding chuckle before answering, "As Cecile said, I can make no promises. However, I do believe that the visitors are going to miss out on such a treat until we meet. For their sake, I hope they get to meet me soon." In an afterthought, Jeremy thought, "_The faster they meet me, the sooner they'll be out of here."_

Cassandra thought their responses over, analyzing how far she could push them until they _really_ started to push back.

"To keep you satisfied until you're ready- and to let you learn how the professionals work- I'll let you witness a chat with our newest visitor from behind the mirror. I must warn you, though- she's a feisty one."

At this, Kathleen and Jeremy's eyes lit up, but for a different reason than Cassandra thought. The only thing that the Director told them about their subject was that she was a prodigy that hadn't let the expectations down and her name was Cameron Morgan. Though the name sounded familiar to the both of them, they couldn't figure out why.

"So when do we get to meet her?" Gary asked smoothly.

"I see we're a bit impatient, aren't we?" Cassandra paused long enough for Jeremy to realize that she was expecting an answer, so he shrugged.

"Well, I suppose we could go now, and spring a little visit on her. Won't she be pleased…" Cassandra mused for a second longer before briskly walking down the dank corridor, reaching a door with a giant "1" painted on it.

"You'll be in here." She commanded, not even looking at them before she walked through the next door down.

"Are you ready?" Jeremy muttered to Kathleen as the door closed behind Cassandra.

"Um…" Her voice was shaky and there was the feeling of something stuck in her throat, but Kathleen continued with, "Yeah. Let's see her."

Jeremy nodded and placed his hand on the cool metal of the doorknob, mentally preparing himself before slipping into the empty room.

The first thing to meet Jeremy's sight was a six-by-three window and two chairs in an otherwise-empty room. Kathleen stood on her tippy-toes, trying to see past Jeremy as he assessed the room. After a few seconds, she realized that it might seem conspicuous to anyone walking past that two newbies were just standing in the doorway, so Kathleen gave Jeremy's back a little shove to get him into the room.

"Sorry," he muttered, just realizing that he hadn't moved since he opened the door. He lifted his hand to point at the window before saying, "I think _she's_ the subject."

He heard a faint _click_, a moment of silence for Kathleen to assess the scene in the window, then a soft gasp as she realized what was so different from what they had expected.

Mrs. Goode had just walked into the other room, greeting her captive with a flash of an evil smile before saying, "Say hello to our guests- not that you can see them. They'll be watching for now, so that they can get an idea as to how we treat very special guests like yourself."

Cammie- who was just a child in Jeremy and Kathleen's eyes- looked up to glare at Cassandra before spitting, the wad of saliva landing on Ms. Goode's cheek. Kathleen wished to just save Cammie right then, not caring if she herself were to die in the process as long as Cammie would get out.

Jeremy seemed to see Kathleen's impatience, and he placed his hand on her shoulder.

"You know what the director said. We have to wait until Cassandra trusts us enough before we can move her. If the kid stood two months of this already, she'll last until we can make sure she can get out safely. Even if it doesn't look it, this is her best chance."

Although Kathleen didn't want to say it- or even think it- she was a spy first, and an optimist never; so she muttered, "What if she doesn't?"

Jeremy didn't have an answer for her.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

Cassandra's special "treat" didn't do anything good for Kathleen and Jeremy's stomachs, but when Ms. Goode walked out of the room with a smile on her face and an unconscious child in the background, they forced themselves to be Cecile and Gary.

"So?" Cassandra asked giddily, "How'd you like it?"

Kathleen would've already killed Cassandra, but Cecile just shrugged and answered, "I've seen feistier." While Gary glanced at Cassandra with a bored expression.

"You have quite a lot of talk for a convict with a record," Cassandra shot back, her pride wounded.

"Feisty means that they scream at you. Of course we've got records." Cecile answered for the both of them. "We're not rich enough for soundproof walls like you are, and gagging them just ruins the fun."

Cassandra laughed, as if Cecile had just told her a new joke.

"I think I'm going to like you…" Cassandra mused, before turning to Gary. "But you… You don't talk much, do you?"

As if to prove the point, he shrugged.

"Alright. Well, I hope your methods make up for it…" Cassandra- seeming to realize that they were all just standing around the door- started walking down the hallway as if she owned the place. Maybe she did. Either way, she didn't bother to check if Cecile and Gary were following her as she continued. "Dealing with Cameron makes me hungry, and I swear to God if she makes me fat, I'll kill that girl.

"Anyway, back to you two. You'll start your skill development after we have some lunch. With your experience, it'll probably take you about… three months? Before you can deal with the brat. Sadly, she's the only one we have that still gets visits. The rest are hostages, kidnapees, or people that've tried to do us in.

"I'm not sure why we have so many damned employees- all they do is go out to find _more_ employees. I mean, I've been assigned the Morgan girl, and _nobody else_ has an important job! Sure, you two are going to be trained by Aylee until you can take over the brat's living conditions, but what the hell? Everyone else just makes sure we multiply like rats!

"I'm sure that there's a base somewhere not too far away that needs people- can't we even the score a little? We're one of the microscopic bases… Like all those Wal-Marts, then there's that one that everyone sees and thinks, '_That's_ a Wal-Mart! Man… they've really lowered their standards!' _I don't want to be that Wal-Mart!"_ By the end of her rant, Cassandra was practically shouting.

But did people give her a _what-the-hell's-your-problem _Look? Or even _glance_ at the insane head-of-base? Nope- they didn't dare to. Some stifled their laughter, but others were either too terrified or used to it to gain any amusement from her. Although one person- her personal secretary, Jeremy assumed- rushed up to her and asked, "Did you go visit Cammie today? You know you shouldn't visit her more than every other day…"

"I'm fine." Cassandra snapped, briskly leading Cecile and Gary to the cafeteria as if nothing had happened.

"I hope you brought your money with you, because Aylee's vigorous."

Kathleen and Jeremy gulped, glancing at each other with a look of, "_Got any spare change?"_ before sighing.

_Today just keeps getting longer…_ Kathleen couldn't help to think as she shuffled into the cafeteria with her partner and secret enemy.

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**Good? Bad? Flame-worthy? How'd you like Ms. Goode's little rant? Or the fact that Cammie's driving her nuts? I've been doing some major editing (sort of) but haven't gotten to posting it because I haven't gotten to this chapter yet, and it'll make no sense to anyone rereading/starting to read this where it stops being edited, but it should be done soonish. Concrit, flames, suggestions and anything else are welcome :D Have fun with it!**


	9. AN: I'm really sorry, guys

**I'm... Extremely sorry, guys. I wish I could say that I know for sure that this is a temporary, I-just-need-to-get-my-feet-on-the-ground break, but I have no clue. I really don't like how it was coming out with the time-jumps and everything, and there's a lot going on in my life that makes it hard to get up the energy to keep updating. If it does get back up, it'll be when I completely finish it so you don't have to wait for me. If you're still willing to read it, then I applaud you. **

**I'll probably be lying low all around FanFiction (not just the Gallagher Girls fandom) so the most you'll see out of me is one-shots. I don't think I've told you before, but I love you all. See you around?**


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